


I Know You Didn’t Ask For This

by stephswims



Series: Fictober 2019 [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Depression, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 20:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephswims/pseuds/stephswims
Summary: Set in season 2.





	I Know You Didn’t Ask For This

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for depression. Day 4 of Fictober.

Felicity stared into the darkness of her closet. Shadows of dresses and shoes and bagscrossed her eyes, but she didn’t register what she was looking at. She didn’t know how long she had stood there or what time it was. There was something in the back of her brain telling her she should move, but she couldn’t.

The beeping of the coffee maker brought her back to the present. She moved slowly, closing her blackout curtains that she had just opened minutes ago. Or was it hours? She didn’t know. She sat on the edge of her bed and grabbed her phone on the nightstand. She sent a quick message to Oliver saying she was taking a sick day. At first, she had been resistant to take the executive assistant job, but she had grown to like it. She enjoyed working closely with Oliver, and he let her do things he should have done as CEO that challenged her.

But she just didn’t want to deal with it today.

She flopped back onto her bed and stared through the darkness towards the ceiling.

And stared.

And stared.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there. Thanks to the blackout curtains, she didn’t know what time it was. At some point, she crawled underneath the covers. At another point, she rolled to her side to stare at the dark wall before her, vaguely processing the edges of her dresser.

She could hear her phone vibrate against the wood of her nightstand. She could hear the coffee maker, beeping incessantly, wanting to be shut off. She could smell the burnt coffee, wafting into her bedroom from the kitchen.

But she couldn’t move.

She was frozen.

More vibrating. More beeping.

Knocking entered the mix, but the new sound didn’t trigger any response in her. She knew it was there, but she couldn’t respond.

She thought she heard a crash, but she couldn’t be sure. The sound was so far away, muffled by the silence of her brain.

The vibrating stopped.

The beeping stopped.

She still couldn’t move.

She blinked and continued to stare at the dark outline of her dresser. She heard movement, a muffled voice, but nothing clear. Her brain was covered in a misty fog, light coming in but scattered in a million different directions. She could sense all the different particles, but she couldn’t pull them into focus. When bright light radiated within the room, she blinked rapidly.

“Felicity,” a soft voice sounded. She heard it, but she didn’t hear it. It sounded far away even though she knew it was in the room with her.

“Felicity, are you ok?” Again, she heard it in the fuzzy confines of her brain. She felt a warm hand placed on her shoulder, and her ears cleared a little bit. She glanced behind her to see Oliver looking at her, concern written all over his face.

“What?” she asked as she sat up.

“Are you ok? You haven’t answered my calls.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she shrugged with a weak smile.

“Felicity, you don’t seem fine. Are you sick?” He sat on the bed next to hear, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. She rested her head on his shoulder, and she felt better just with a simple gesture.

“No, I’m not sick,” she said softly, “not in the way you think.” She squeezed her eyes. She’s never actually told anyone about her depressive episodes besides her doctor. They were pretty infrequent, only occurring a couple of times a year, so they decided that she would forgo any medication. She was already medicated for anxiety. That was more than enough for her.

Growing up, her mother always thought these episodes were just part of Felicity’s work cycle. She worked so hard at school and at her extracurriculars that she needed time to just zone out. She might have led her mother to believe that, but it was better than having her worry. Coincidently, the last episode she had also coincided perfectly with about two weeks of late nights in the foundry, making it easy to make the excuse of just being tired to Oliver. But now, leaning into him, having his arm wrapped protectively around her, she got the feeling that he knew it was something more.

He kissed the top of her head, rubbing her arm comfortingly. His free hand took hers. She could easily get lost in his touch, his warmth, his smell.

“Felicity, do you want to talk about?” he asked quietly. There was a slight edge to his voice, like it was about to crack, and Felicity found herself jealous of it. She wished she could just feel that way right now, but she couldn’t feel anything. She was numb. She had been numb for a couple of weeks now, but it peaked this morning as she stood in her closet, looking at the brightly colored dresses and shiny shoes. She couldn’t bear wearing anything so flashy when she felt so dark inside.

“I just don’t feel anything,” she said weakly. He squeezed her shoulder to keep her talking. “I don’t care about anything,” she whispered ashamed to say those words to the man who she cared the most about.

She shut her eyes but kept going, feeling the strength seep out of him and into her. “I know I’m supposed to help you, to guide you, to be your light, but I feel so dark. I’m sorry. I know you didn’t ask for this. You deserve better than this.” Her voice cracked, and she felt her eyes prickle. She wanted the relief of a good cry, but in order to cry, she had to feel something. She wasn’t there yet, but talking to Oliver helped.

“Hey,” he responded as he shifted, facing her, keeping his arm around her, “the darkest part of you is more than enough light for me.” He hugged her tightly to him. She breathed in his comforting scent and nodded into his chest. Just having him there put her at ease.

“Let me be your light now,” he whispered into her ear, rocking her gently. She nodded again, his hands rubbing her back, and she felt her eyes prickle again.

“I love you just the way you are, light and dark,” he said with another kiss to her head. It was meant to be a platonic declaration, but his tone said otherwise. She let that comfort her as the tears finally escaped her eyes.


End file.
